


A Kiss on the Nape

by cozywilde



Series: Smoochtober [8]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Neck Kissing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 03:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Sadzhik has woken up with Amaudru in his bed before, but this time is different.





	A Kiss on the Nape

**Author's Note:**

> [Sadzhik](https://toyhou.se/2852682.sadzhik), a charismatic perfumer who finds himself oddly charmed by Amaudru  
[Amaudru](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=199199&tab=dragon&did=22484460), a blood mage exiled from his home who is continually baffled at Sadzhik's interest in him 
> 
> I'm borrowing Amaudru from the lovely [zweis](https://zweis-fr.tumblr.com), and this is semi-inspired by this [Truly Lovely piece of art they did](https://wildewinged-fr.tumblr.com/post/155423336746/zweis-fr-add-a-caption-if-u-like-sadzhik-is)!

Sunlight spills across his face, the sounds of the street outside filtering through the open window. It’s not those that wake Sadzhik, though - instead, it’s a curious anomaly in his senses, the buzz of low-level anxiety replaced by a sweet, contented warmth. Not altogether unfamiliar when Amaudru is dreaming with Sadzhik in his arms, but there’s a sharpness, an awareness, that speaks of wakefulness instead. 

Sadzhik’s still drowsy, though, so he stretches. Long and indulgent, with a perhaps gratuitous moan. He can’t deny a bit of disappointment that Amaudru stays quiet, even as a hotter undercurrent grows under the mellow waves of his emotions.

“Usually I’m up before you are,” Sadzhik murmurs. “Were you just going to pretend to be asleep?” 

Amaudru’s breath hitches at being caught, but his good mood seems relatively unshakeable. His arms tighten around Sadzhik. “It’s you who likes to talk.” As if in evidence of the fact, Amaudru’s voice rasps, and he has to clear his throat. 

“Mm, yes, ‘good morning’ is quite a lot of conversation to ask of you this early,” Sadzhik laughs. “Forgive me.” 

“Good morning,” Amaudru obliges him anyway. 

“A very good morning,” Sadzhik agrees, his delighted fondness obvious in his tone - or so he hopes. That much is difficult to tell even with his senses. Amaudru has many doubts, but Sadzhik knows that his own feelings for Amaudru are something Amaudru can’t seem to help questioning. 

Perhaps not this particular morning, though. Sadzhik can’t fathom what’s changed but he can certainly feel it, not just in the emotions swirling in the air, but in the way Amaudru holds him, the way he noses at Sadzhik’s shoulder, chapped lips skimming over his skin. One of those fleeting kisses makes Sadzhik shiver, especially sensitive. 

“Sorry, does it hurt?” Amaudru pulls back to ask. 

“Hmm?” Sadzhik pushes himself up to sit, tilting his head to try to see his own shoulder. “Oh, we were enthusiastic last night, weren’t we?” 

The dark spots of bruises pepper his skin, and in that strange way of minor injuries, now that Sadzhik knows they’re there he can feel the light throb of them over his shoulder, up his neck. 

Amaudru sits up too, the first disturbance in the gentle waves of his emotions making itself known at last. Before it can go much further, Sadzhik leans back into him, encouraging Amaudru’s arms to slide around him again. When they do Sadzhik hums, a soft sound of contentment. Amaudru presses a palm over Sadzhik's chest, as if he can hold that contentment there, trapped beneath his fingers.

“I like them, you know,” Sadzhik says, voice a low purr. He tilts his head, letting his hair fall to one side so that Amaudru has a clearer view of his neck. “It’s good to have something so tangible, don’t you think?” 

Amaudru doesn’t reply, but Sadzhik can’t say he expected him to. Amaudru’s free hand comes up to draw Sadzhik’s hair in front of him, and he lets his fingers stay there, loosely tangled in the strands, petting idly. Sadzhik sighs, eyes slipping closed as Amaudru presses a kiss to each bruise, firm enough to make Sadzhik’s breath catch. Starting at his shoulder, over the stretch of skin between there and his neck, finishing in a lingering press of lips at the nape. 

Even when Amaudru says nothing, the feelings that wash over Sadzhik are better than any words.


End file.
